You Stole My Bounty!
by PersonOfDisinterest
Summary: Samus tracks down Captain Falcon to not so politely enquire why Bowser wasn't in the bloody castle. Warning: contains vigorous, slightly unrealistic depictions of human copulation.


**Inspired by a random playthrough of Melee's Event Match 17 "Bounty Hunters". **

* * *

Your average night on the town: neon lights flashing up and down the street, individuals staggering or perhaps crawling on hands and knees to the next stop on their journeys of severe inebriation, a dozen different alien species conducting the intricate ritual that is flirting – nothing out of the ordinary. At least until a flash of gold falls from on high and hammers straight into the pavement.

When the dust, flying debris and panicked screams finally settle, a bipedal suit of armour rises slowly to stand tall above the heads and shoulders of every last gobsmacked bystander. Eyes are immediately pinned on the massive arm cannon encompassing its right arm, ribbons of stark green light tracing up and down its length. A moment of bated breath and silence follows – and then gasps at the sound of a chorus of mechanical whirring. The suit of armour begins to fold apart, sliding open from an invisible seam that slices straight down its middle. Then finally, accompanied by the hiss of servomotors as the hulking suit opens up completely, something steps out into the stubbornly lingering haze of dust.

Everyone watches, waits, clinging to perfect strangers hunkered down beside them with death grips, and then _she_ steps out of the dust. A woman. Well, no one expects that. And no one expects her to stand nearly head and shoulders above the lot of them wearing a sheer, skin-tight blue jumpsuit, one so form fitting that it defines every last muscle and feminine curve the woman possesses, areas decreed intimate not excluded. So of course the eyes of a dozen different alien species fall to admire every inch of this glorious specimen which fell from heaven.

But as she emerges from the dust, the woman wears a look that would chill a burning star. She sweeps it from left to right and doesn't blink. In unison her onlookers shuffle backwards. Blood rushing south, north or everywhere else turns cold. The woman lifts a hand to sweep vibrant yellow hair wrapped tightly in a ponytail over her shoulder before stalking towards the doors of the club.

Everyone in her way hurriedly moves out of it and she doesn't spare them even a first glance. She glares murder at the doors, reaching forward to fling them open with a posture that highlights the size of her shoulders even outside the suit. Which, incidentally, continues to stand in the middle of the pavement, wide open and attracting disbelieving stares.

Grimy electronic music thumps from wall to wall inside the club, neon lights flashing across the entire spectrum. The dance floor is choked with patrons, stale with sweat and the bar overflows with colourful liquor. The woman spots her quarry sitting right there, the centre of attention with that boisterous voice of his booming above everyone else's.

"Captain, another shot?"

"YES!"

The woman's eyes narrow further still, eyebrows scrunching together. Rage spills off of her in waves, pushing back the crowd. Her bellow drowns out even the music.

"HEY, CAPTAIN!"

His eyes are barely visible beneath the tinted half visor of his helmet as he turns. "Captain Falcon wonders who screams his name so – aha! Samus Aran!"

"The one and only," she snarls, marching up to the man and driving a finger right into the centre of his musclebound chest. "You stole my fucking bounty."

A thick eyebrow arches beneath the man's visor. "Captain Falcon knows not of what you speak –"

"Don't play dumb with me," Samus cuts across him, tangling her fingers into his jacket. "The spiked turtle was mine_._ _I_ signed the fucking contract. _I _had to sit there listening to the half-wit plumber drone on and on about unrequited love and flagging business. Then _I _had to ransack eight different castles before finding out that _you_ had come along and caught the scaly bastard already!"

The man in her grip gives pause. "Captain Falcon thinks he might recall this situation –"

Samus yells in exasperation. "Give me my damn money, you low rate excuse for a thief."

"Captain Falcon does not appreciate your tone –"

Samus shakes him like a ragdoll, a rippling with muscle, six foot something ragdoll. "Give. Me. My. Money!"

He has the audacity to smirk. "Alas, Captain Falcon cannot. It is spent."

Samus' left eye twitches in the silence that follows. "All of it?"

"YES!"

She lets go of him in an instant, stepping back as the crowd of onlookers murmurs incessantly and stands on tiptoes to see the action. Samus starts nodding, whether to the Captain or herself no one can tell. "Okay," she says, "that's how you want to play then." And she turns on her heel and furiously sweeps out of the club. Patrons skid across the floor with yelps when they're too slow in scurrying out of her way.

The man she accosted continues to smirk, rolling his big shoulders and straightening out his ruffled jacket. "Captain Falcon remains smooth in the face of Aran's legendary scorn," he comments lightly, and everyone in his vicinity flocks to him once more in awe of his mere existence. A collection of drinks assembles in front of him and the Captain downs shot after shot with an appreciative smack and curve of the lips. Until someone bursts through the doors once more and rushes up to him.

"Mr. Captain, sir! Is that your car parked around the corner, the –?"

"- majestic Blue Falcon, winning car of fifteen F-Zero Championships? YES!"

"Well there's a crazy blonde chick out there taking a plasma cutter to it!"

The slouched Captain straightens immediately, displacing the two pairs of large hands belonging to the Shokan caressing his shoulders. His award winning smile morphs into a dark scowl. "Captain Falcon will not stand for this affront," he says ominously. So several drunken fans eagerly hoist him up on his stool and carry him outside.

* * *

The crowd is still waiting and watching when Samus stalks out of the club, doors banging open. Anyone within five curious steps of the open power suit scampers backwards, tripping over their heels or otherwise clumsy appendages. Samus walks up to it and with fiery eyes reaches inside to retrieve her blaster. Although perhaps a more appropriate descriptor would be her fucking handcannon.

It's huge, military grey and ribbed with yellow-purple neon light, drawing gasps from every last being who catches sight of it. Samus turns away from the power suit, altering the blaster's configuration by means of a holo-display hovering just above the side of it. By the time she walks around the corner of the street and spots the Captain's Blue Falcon, she's holding a hulking plasma cutter in hand. Her grin is pure evil and malicious as sparks spit hotly into the air.

Its owner arrives several minutes later, stool set down in the middle of the street by his entourage. Samus is hunched over the hood of his car, showered by a torrent of blinding hot sparks that don't faze her in the slightest.

"Cease defacing Captain Falcon's ride at once!" the man cries, finally standing to his feet.

"I'm not _de_facing it!" Samus shouts back, though of course she is merely twisting the meaning of the Captain strides forward and clamps a hand down on her shoulder, pulling her away from the object of ruthless vandalism. His eyes grow round as plates, mouth falling open.

"What have you done?" he whispers.

Etched a caricature of the Captain's face is what she's done. Or to be more precise: drawn an engorged cock attached to his forehead on the bright blue hood of his car for all to see. Samus hefts the plasma cutter up to rest on her shoulder, wearing a smirk of her own as she looks down at her handiwork. "What do you think, Captain?" she asks loudly. "Isn't the resemblance striking?"

The man turns to her, fuming. "Captain Falcon demands you remove this demeaning image at once."

"Give me my money, in full, and I'll consider reducing the size of the dick," Samus returns.

By now an audience is gathering and the Captain's eyes flick left to right as the flash of cameras begin to light up the street. "The scale of this humiliation is disproportionate to my supposed crime, Aran!" he argues.

She jabs him in the chest. "On the contrary, you conniving thief, this is perfectly fair!"

He makes a sudden grab for the plasma cutter, reaching around her, but Samus swipes it from the grip of his fingertips and plants the sole of her boot into his stomach. "My money, Captain!" she yells as he picks himself up off the concrete clear on the other side of the street. He bounds forwards, fastest man alive on two legs, and tackles the towering blonde before she can blink. The impact of his shoulder driving through her midriff pulls a solid 'oomph!' from her lips and takes her feet out from underneath her.

The Captain makes another grab for the plasma cutter, catching Samus' wrist. She jerks her head off the pavement and his brain bounces off the insides of his skull as her forehead connects with his helmet. Dazed, the man swings wildly and clouts Samus across the face. She spits onto the concrete and gets her knee between their bodies. Lesser men would've been propelled into the stratosphere by the power of her trunk-like thighs, but the Captain, with his unyielding grip on her wrist, uses the momentum of her forceful push to pull them both to their feet.

Which is when Samus sees her chance, sending the upper arch of her foot rocketing straight between his legs.

Eyes pop out of their sockets, lips pulled open in a soundless scream of agony. The Captain stands with a placid expression, watching the woman hop about on one foot with the most absurd expression of pain twisting her features. Because he is, of course, the manliest man to ever exist in hyper-masculine form, thus Samus does not crush sensitive little balls with her strike but almost shatters the bones in her foot on smooth, solid steel orbs. "Fucking _hell!_" she screams, dancing on one leg until the Captain hauls that off the ground too.

Samus grunts hard as the man turns and slams her down onto the spoiled hood of his Blue Falcon. The vehicle, hovering inches above the road, wobbles severely beneath the weight of her super-dense muscular body, compounded by the Captain's force. "Captain Falcon does not appreciate your continued effort to embarrass him," he tells her with a shake of his helmeted head.

Samus rolls her eyes. "Screw you," she tells him, writhing beneath his grip.

"Captain Falcon will take you up on that offer," he replies, holding fast to her wrist and hip, "unless you agree to correct the damage you have done to his prize vehicle."

"Show me my money!" Samus spits ferociously.

"I will show you something else!" the Captain cries, and without warning something tears through the crotch of his trousers, the tight fabric ripping like a crack of thunder.

The weight of a truly gargantuan cock slaps down between Samus thighs, the meat of a three inch thick shaft resting heavily on her puffy sheathed pussy lips. "Captain Falcon will shame you as you have shamed him, Aran, before all these watching eyes and cameras," the man declares, and a collective gasp rises from the lips of the gathered crowd.

His big dick moves to salute his intentions and Samus watches it dribble thick beads of pre-cum onto her stomach with wide eyes. "Don't you dare, Falcon!" she screams, moving to point the plasma cutter still locked in her grip at him. But the Captain forces her hand back down and the weapon finally flies from her hand when he squeezes tight.

Moving his grip from her hip to her thickly muscled thigh, Samus finds her legs shoved open as the Captain's cock rises to full mast and shudders with virility in the cool evening air. It's a foot and half long monster that has no business being attached to a human male and she writhes to get away from it. But the Captain seizes her hip again as he lines himself up and she feels the fat head of his prick pushing against her sealed entrance. Sealed by way of the skin-tight jumpsuit the man has neglected to even think to remove. But no matter, because the membrane of the fabric is nonsensically thin and the Captain's massive rod can scratch solid diamond.

The jumpsuit stretches even tighter around Samus' plump camel toe as masculine hips drive forward, halting briefly as the sky-blue membrane offers resistance. But nothing will impede the Captain now, his mouth a thin line of determination as though the penetration of Samus Aran is a cause worth devoting one's life to. A drooling audience, which hasn't breathed for almost a minute now, watches the blonde's tight cunt slowly but surely peel open around the tip of a dark, rippling-with-veins cock shaft. The blonde herself screws her face up in immense discomfort, strained voice locked behind clenched teeth as the Captain's intrusion stretches her jumpsuit uncomfortably tight along her inner thigh.

An elongated hiss leaves her lips when the head of the man's thick meat sinks into her pussy, jumpsuit fabric wrapped around it like a pseudo-contraceptive. "Fuck, Captain, take that bastard out of me!" she yells at him, reaching down to grab his wrist at her hip. "I'm not – _argh!"_

"Captain Falcon likes it when you scream," the man comments, forcing more of himself and the impossibly stretched jumpsuit into Samus. "He is sure…the cameras…and audience…enjoy it even…_more_," he grunts as the fabric's resistance greatens. But the Captain wields a cock mightier than the plasma sword and fiercely shunts forward his hips. No one is deaf to dull wet _pop _ as his meaty mushroom head bursts right through the jumpsuit and into the true warmth of Samus' delicious cock sleeve. Even when the blonde screams louder.

"Seven moons of Zebes take it out take it _out_! Not yet!"

"Not yet? Captain Falcon is confused, dear Aran. Besides, he wishes to show the cameras his moves."

She glares up at him, promising a cold, painful death. "Don't. You. _Dare_."

But of course, the Captain will not be told what or what not to do. He does precisely as he is wont, and right now what he desires is to feel the walls of Samus' hot hole hugging eighteen inches of manly meat. He works in a fifth inch with some difficulty; the woman is damn near painfully tight, but the Captain presses on as she bares her teeth and cords of muscle bulge in her neck. He swears she get tighter still as he hunkers down and grinds another inch of stiff cock into her.

And that's where his noble advance comes to a halt. Bystanders stare in utter disbelief that Samus even manages to take a plain six inches of such a monstrous rod without splitting apart, but the Captain hasn't stopped because he simply can't fit. Anguish has begun to rise to his face, but no one save he and the woman impaled by a third of his rigid length know the cause. There is a savage look on Samus' face as the Captain parts his lips and mewls. It spurs her on as she clamps down on his cock with powerful pelvic muscles, the walls of her vagina tightening not unlike a vice. And there is so much to _squeeze._

The Captain gives a choked howl and tries to pull back, but Samus locks him in and punishes his impatience. He grabs at her waist, then pushes desperately against her inner thighs, jerking his own hips but going nowhere. The fire in Samus' eyes is sadistic. Crushing beer cans with her snatch was a killer party trick back in the day and she hasn't experienced the joy since. She'd break any other man's cock right off and she can feel even the Captain's monster beginning to give. Only when she is satisfied by the keening of his voice does she finally release him and he shoots back on unbalanced feet, cradling his poor bruised cockhead.

Sitting up on the end of the Blue Falcon's nose, Samus drops the man onto his knees with pressure on his shoulders. The gash in her jumpsuit flutters in the breeze as she spreads her legs, swollen pussy lips flushed deep pink on clear display to all. The blonde reaches forward with a scowl and grabs the Captain by the side of his helmet. "There's a reason I said not yet, you moron," she upbraids him, dragging his face forward. "Do I look wet to you?"

"Captain Falcon does not – murmpphh!"

She mashes his face into her crotch to the glowing adoration of their audience. "Eat my cunt, you thieving bastard," she hisses down at him, holding him fast with her hands at the back of his head. The Captain tries to pull away of course, but Samus is no stick thin city girl who struggles when carrying more than two bags of groceries up a flight of stairs. The taut curve of her biceps bulge and the striations of her shoulders are plain for all to see as she keeps the Captain in his place. Hell, she could squat his damn car on a good day.

The man writhes and protests but he isn't going anywhere until he makes her cum. His choices are either to be asphyxiated into unconsciousness with his nose pressed deep into the pubic triangle sitting above her puffy lips, or get the job done quickly. Then again the latter seems likely, as the Captain's struggling and demands to be released send his voice humming through her pussy and set his mouth and tongue to lash her clit. "Yesh, yesh, yesh," she groans through clenched teeth, said tongue jammed deep inside her. Her hips roll as she grinds against his face. "Suck on it, Captain. Suck my clit!"

And within minutes she is crossing her legs over his shoulders and shouting into the night, the arch of her back thrusting long, aching nipples into the air. She gushes copiously down the man's chin and laughs as she falls back onto the hood of the Blue Falcon. Her hands move to grope her tits as she stares up into the sky, a vacant grin splashed across her face. She wakes up when something wraps around her throat; the Captain's hand, and he pulls her up so that he can look her in the eye. His cock stands tall between their bodies, the pre-cum slathered tip jutting up into the underside of Samus' right breast.

"Captain Falcon almost suffocated…on your filthy cunt," he spits out, tightening his grip on her throat when Samus bursts into more laughter.

"Meanwhile, I had one of the best orgasms of my life," she tells him with a defiant smirk. "Must be to do with all these people watching you eat me out, on your knees, with my hands wrapped around your head."

The Captain's face grows flush beneath his helmet.

"Embarrassed?" Samus coos, curling her hands around the thick shaft of his hot prick and stroking upwards. "Going to turn tail and run like the little thief you are?"

The Captain pulls her close, so that no one else can hear him growl into her ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream for all the cameras pointed at us."

Samus laughs once more. "Dropping the act a little prematurely, Captain?"

"What?"

"Slipped into first person there."

"Oh. Uh, Captain Falcon will –"

"Please, spare me," Samus cuts across him, "or on second thought…"

She leans back, lying flat on her back on the hood of the Blue Falcon once its driver releases his grip. Then she slowly gathers her knees to each other, squashing her sopping wet cunt between her inner thighs. She straightens her legs, pointing her toes at the sky. The solid cut of her abs press up into the material of her jumpsuit as she curls her torso and reaches up to take hold of her ankles. Once there, for the Captain and every other eye glued to the blonde, Samus slowly spreads her legs wide open into a full split.

"Fuck me, Captain."

As manly a man as the Captain is, with legendary virility attributed to his name, even he is tempted to cum just from hearing the throaty, salacious plea that leaves the woman's lips. But he reins himself in and decides that instead he will plough those lips, with his cock, once he has thoroughly ravaged her puffy pink pussy. The salivating crowd presses in with a collective groan as he takes hold of his magnificent shaft and leers up at Samus.

"Captain Falcon can only oblige."


End file.
